Battlestar Galactica - The Darkest Hour 1/2
Title: The Darkest Hour
Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica, and its characters, don’t belong to me. Which kind of sucks, but I’m dealing with it.
Pairing: Roslin/Adama
Rating: Teen
Summary: Everything has a beginning and an end, everyday has it's darkest hour.
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They walked together, arms linked, but seemingly not as close as they usually did. There was a silent battle between them. He needed the comfort only she could provide, and she needed to be left alone. Nobody could win unless one backed down. But neither would allow the other what they wanted.
“There are other ways to do this…”
“A cremation was never on the table,” Had she not been drained of energy, then maybe her words would have sounded more like a growl than a harsh whisper. It seemed she didn’t have the energy for most things. “Can we just do this please?”
He intended to speak, say something more in an attempt to talk her out of the darkness she was in. Yet it was futile. No words could provide a light strong enough to guide her back to him. In his heart he feared she would never return completely. Death changed people, particularly those who were already dying. As the one already marked by death, she was supposed to go before all others. He’d sat outside Galactica’s guest quarters, listening to her scream in her sleep. He knew that’s what plagued her.
Those screams haunted his own dreams when he happened to sleep. Sometimes, in his dreams, he held her in his arms in an attempt to calm her down. But nothing could stop the bloodcurdling scream that echoed through the corridors at night. Nothing could calm her down, and she had made it clear he was not to touch her.
As they stepped onto the deck the few people who had arrived before them fell silent. They made their way down the aisle, and she quietly sat in the front row. In an instant she’d crossed her arms and pulled away from him slightly.
A young pilot knelt beside her chair, bowing her head slightly. “Madame President, I’m probably the last person you’d like to see right now,” It taken days for Racetrack to find a time when she could talk to the President. Days of people trying to convince her it wasn’t her fault. “But I just wanted to say, how deeply sorry I am for what took place…”
Laura’s hand rested against the young woman’s cheek, silencing her request for forgiveness. She smiled, though the misery in her eyes remained, and moved to press a kiss against Racetrack’s forehead. “There was a problem with the Raptor,” She said softly, brushing back the Lieutenant’s hair as if she was a child. “You did what you had to do. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
For the first time Bill realised just how far Laura was willing to push him away. It didn’t matter what the facts were. In her mind it was his raptor that had collided with her ship. He was to blame. He clenched his jaw as Racetrack nodded and Laura continued to talk to her quietly. Guests were taking their seats. It was time to begin the service. He sat beside Laura, taking her hand in his. He could feel the muscles in her hand clench at his touch but refused to let go. He would not let her push him away.
There was slow, painful, music playing as the body was brought forward, yet Laura didn’t hear it. Lee and Kara had been chosen to lay the body to rest at the altar. She felt sick to her stomach. Her heart pounded against her chest and echoed throughout her body. Her own body already so weak from the returned cancer, felt as though it had already begun shutting down. If she thought about it, really thought about it, she’d realise she couldn’t feel her toes. The feeling of Bill’s hand on hers was no longer there. He remained holding her hand, but there was no feeling.
Small things broke through her defences - Lee speaking, and people laughing quietly. What was there to laugh about? Death wasn’t funny. She glanced down at her lap. Her hand lay there, wet, and it occurred to her she was crying. There was no façade in front of the people around her. The President was not in attendance. Laura Roslin was a woman in mourning and she refused to allow a Political mask to hide her away. However Bill saw it as Laura having no energy to keep up the pretence. She was wasting away without the strength to do anything more than keep herself alive, and silently he wondered when that would end.
They stood together, more out of habit then anything else. She wasn’t entirely sure why they were standing, but he was still holding her hand and she followed without argument. It was confusing. Everything was rushing by so fast. She wasn’t ready for it all to end. Bill let go of her hand, moving to remove the section of the Colonial Military flag that covered her head. As the material was pulled back, Laura felt her heart constrict. It felt as if someone was wrapping it in barbed wire. It was becoming harder and harder to breathe, and all of a sudden time seemed to slow.
Soft red hair fell in waves, framing the small child’s face. Freckles littered her little cheeks from their time on New Caprica, her cheekbones had only just started gaining definition. If her eyes had been opened they would have sparkled, an uncanny shade of icy blue. In an instant she would have the entire room laughing, flashing a toothy grin at her parents.
Laura dropped to her knees at the altar, her hands clasped together over her daughter’s stomach. The cry of a heartbroken mother echoed throughout the deck. “Merciful Hera,” She cried out, an unknown power filling her voice. “Mother to mother, take my child in your hands this night. Keep her safe as she crosses to the Elysian Fields. Guide her from darkness…” She lowered her head as her heart tore its final shreds within her chest.
Pain ripped through every inch of her body. The emotion was overwhelming. All she wanted was for her little girl open her eyes. Open her eyes and smile at her. She needed to know her baby was going to be okay. She needed to keep her close. They were taking her daughter away from her. She was desperate to hold onto her, desperate to keep her flesh and blood by her side.
Her hands moved to the child’s face. Slowly she stood up, her legs shaky. Her fingers caressed the cold features of her only child. “Sweet dreams baby,” She whispered as she pressed a kiss to the girl’s cheek. “I’ll be with you soon.”
“Lords of Kobol,” Bill’s spoke up, as Laura covered the child’s head. “We commit the body and soul of our child Grace Adama to you. Carry her safely until we are with her once more.”
There was silence. Laura glanced up at Bill and she knew there was more to be said. Neither of them could find the words to complete the service. The thought occurred to her that if they didn’t end the service then she wouldn’t have to say goodbye. But it had to be done. As she tried to speak a whimper escaped her throat, and she looked back down at the covered body.
Kara glanced at Lee, confused. Something had to be done. Family had to complete the ceremony. It was Colonial tradition when it came to the death of a child. She nudged Lee slightly and he glanced up at her, tears in his eyes. He was in no state to do anything. Taking a deep breath as she stood up, Kara moved to Laura’s side and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “As the body leaves us, the spirit lives on in our memories,” She declared, watching as Bill and Laura bowed their heads. “We live for those we lose, and their memory shall strengthen us in times of darkness. So say we all.” The echo of her final words filled her with hope as they were repeated throughout the congregation.
The body of Grace Adama was lifted from the altar and carried into the airlock. Laura followed her first instinct and turned slightly, hiding her face against Kara’s shoulder. The young woman’s hand ran up and down her back. For the first time since her daughter’s death she was letting someone comfort her, and still it didn’t feel right.
Fire erupted in Bill’s heart as he glanced at Laura. She had turned to Kara for support without question. So many times, since it happened, he had offered her his strength and she had fought him. He needed her. She was his family, and they had lost their daughter. Even if she slapped him in the face and told him she blamed him. He needed something, some form of reaction from her. Treating him like he didn’t exist was causing more pain then he could handle. He turned his attention to his daughter’s body, about to disappear forever.
It was time.
There was a familiar sound and she looked up. There was no doubt in her mind that she had to witness it for herself. As the airlock opened Laura felt her world slipping away. The carefully wrapped body of her child was suddenly sucked into the darkness. She exhaled hard, almost as if she was removing every ounce of oxygen from her system, and doubled over. Her arms wrapped around her stomach and she cried.
The Gods were cruel and heartless. She didn’t want Grace going into the arms of the Gods that took her life. Parents were supposed to wait for their children in the afterlife, not the other way around. Her cry was one of anger as she felt Kara’s arms around her. She needed to escape. She had to get away from them all.
She needed to get away from them all.
All the people saying how sorry they were for her loss, as if they knew. As if they really knew how she was feeling. There were no words to express the pain she was in, just as there were no words to make it go away. Yet mindless people expressed their sympathies for lack of anything better to say. Moving around in small groups and watching her. Commenting on how little sleep she must be getting, and how much weight she’s lost since losing her daughter. What did any of them know? It wasn’t like spilling your drink on someone at a party. You couldn’t just apologise and laugh it off. There was nothing to apologise for. Still they said it every time.
Without waiting and without stopping for any one, she walked away from them.
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Chapter Two
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Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica, and its characters, don’t belong to me. Which kind of sucks, but I’m dealing with it.
Pairing: Roslin/Adama
Rating: Teen
Summary: Everything has a beginning and an end, everyday has it's darkest hour.
--
They walked together, arms linked, but seemingly not as close as they usually did. There was a silent battle between them. He needed the comfort only she could provide, and she needed to be left alone. Nobody could win unless one backed down. But neither would allow the other what they wanted.
“There are other ways to do this…”
“A cremation was never on the table,” Had she not been drained of energy, then maybe her words would have sounded more like a growl than a harsh whisper. It seemed she didn’t have the energy for most things. “Can we just do this please?”
He intended to speak, say something more in an attempt to talk her out of the darkness she was in. Yet it was futile. No words could provide a light strong enough to guide her back to him. In his heart he feared she would never return completely. Death changed people, particularly those who were already dying. As the one already marked by death, she was supposed to go before all others. He’d sat outside Galactica’s guest quarters, listening to her scream in her sleep. He knew that’s what plagued her.
Those screams haunted his own dreams when he happened to sleep. Sometimes, in his dreams, he held her in his arms in an attempt to calm her down. But nothing could stop the bloodcurdling scream that echoed through the corridors at night. Nothing could calm her down, and she had made it clear he was not to touch her.
As they stepped onto the deck the few people who had arrived before them fell silent. They made their way down the aisle, and she quietly sat in the front row. In an instant she’d crossed her arms and pulled away from him slightly.
A young pilot knelt beside her chair, bowing her head slightly. “Madame President, I’m probably the last person you’d like to see right now,” It taken days for Racetrack to find a time when she could talk to the President. Days of people trying to convince her it wasn’t her fault. “But I just wanted to say, how deeply sorry I am for what took place…”
Laura’s hand rested against the young woman’s cheek, silencing her request for forgiveness. She smiled, though the misery in her eyes remained, and moved to press a kiss against Racetrack’s forehead. “There was a problem with the Raptor,” She said softly, brushing back the Lieutenant’s hair as if she was a child. “You did what you had to do. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
For the first time Bill realised just how far Laura was willing to push him away. It didn’t matter what the facts were. In her mind it was his raptor that had collided with her ship. He was to blame. He clenched his jaw as Racetrack nodded and Laura continued to talk to her quietly. Guests were taking their seats. It was time to begin the service. He sat beside Laura, taking her hand in his. He could feel the muscles in her hand clench at his touch but refused to let go. He would not let her push him away.
There was slow, painful, music playing as the body was brought forward, yet Laura didn’t hear it. Lee and Kara had been chosen to lay the body to rest at the altar. She felt sick to her stomach. Her heart pounded against her chest and echoed throughout her body. Her own body already so weak from the returned cancer, felt as though it had already begun shutting down. If she thought about it, really thought about it, she’d realise she couldn’t feel her toes. The feeling of Bill’s hand on hers was no longer there. He remained holding her hand, but there was no feeling.
Small things broke through her defences - Lee speaking, and people laughing quietly. What was there to laugh about? Death wasn’t funny. She glanced down at her lap. Her hand lay there, wet, and it occurred to her she was crying. There was no façade in front of the people around her. The President was not in attendance. Laura Roslin was a woman in mourning and she refused to allow a Political mask to hide her away. However Bill saw it as Laura having no energy to keep up the pretence. She was wasting away without the strength to do anything more than keep herself alive, and silently he wondered when that would end.
They stood together, more out of habit then anything else. She wasn’t entirely sure why they were standing, but he was still holding her hand and she followed without argument. It was confusing. Everything was rushing by so fast. She wasn’t ready for it all to end. Bill let go of her hand, moving to remove the section of the Colonial Military flag that covered her head. As the material was pulled back, Laura felt her heart constrict. It felt as if someone was wrapping it in barbed wire. It was becoming harder and harder to breathe, and all of a sudden time seemed to slow.
Soft red hair fell in waves, framing the small child’s face. Freckles littered her little cheeks from their time on New Caprica, her cheekbones had only just started gaining definition. If her eyes had been opened they would have sparkled, an uncanny shade of icy blue. In an instant she would have the entire room laughing, flashing a toothy grin at her parents.
Laura dropped to her knees at the altar, her hands clasped together over her daughter’s stomach. The cry of a heartbroken mother echoed throughout the deck. “Merciful Hera,” She cried out, an unknown power filling her voice. “Mother to mother, take my child in your hands this night. Keep her safe as she crosses to the Elysian Fields. Guide her from darkness…” She lowered her head as her heart tore its final shreds within her chest.
Pain ripped through every inch of her body. The emotion was overwhelming. All she wanted was for her little girl open her eyes. Open her eyes and smile at her. She needed to know her baby was going to be okay. She needed to keep her close. They were taking her daughter away from her. She was desperate to hold onto her, desperate to keep her flesh and blood by her side.
Her hands moved to the child’s face. Slowly she stood up, her legs shaky. Her fingers caressed the cold features of her only child. “Sweet dreams baby,” She whispered as she pressed a kiss to the girl’s cheek. “I’ll be with you soon.”
“Lords of Kobol,” Bill’s spoke up, as Laura covered the child’s head. “We commit the body and soul of our child Grace Adama to you. Carry her safely until we are with her once more.”
There was silence. Laura glanced up at Bill and she knew there was more to be said. Neither of them could find the words to complete the service. The thought occurred to her that if they didn’t end the service then she wouldn’t have to say goodbye. But it had to be done. As she tried to speak a whimper escaped her throat, and she looked back down at the covered body.
Kara glanced at Lee, confused. Something had to be done. Family had to complete the ceremony. It was Colonial tradition when it came to the death of a child. She nudged Lee slightly and he glanced up at her, tears in his eyes. He was in no state to do anything. Taking a deep breath as she stood up, Kara moved to Laura’s side and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “As the body leaves us, the spirit lives on in our memories,” She declared, watching as Bill and Laura bowed their heads. “We live for those we lose, and their memory shall strengthen us in times of darkness. So say we all.” The echo of her final words filled her with hope as they were repeated throughout the congregation.
The body of Grace Adama was lifted from the altar and carried into the airlock. Laura followed her first instinct and turned slightly, hiding her face against Kara’s shoulder. The young woman’s hand ran up and down her back. For the first time since her daughter’s death she was letting someone comfort her, and still it didn’t feel right.
Fire erupted in Bill’s heart as he glanced at Laura. She had turned to Kara for support without question. So many times, since it happened, he had offered her his strength and she had fought him. He needed her. She was his family, and they had lost their daughter. Even if she slapped him in the face and told him she blamed him. He needed something, some form of reaction from her. Treating him like he didn’t exist was causing more pain then he could handle. He turned his attention to his daughter’s body, about to disappear forever.
It was time.
There was a familiar sound and she looked up. There was no doubt in her mind that she had to witness it for herself. As the airlock opened Laura felt her world slipping away. The carefully wrapped body of her child was suddenly sucked into the darkness. She exhaled hard, almost as if she was removing every ounce of oxygen from her system, and doubled over. Her arms wrapped around her stomach and she cried.
The Gods were cruel and heartless. She didn’t want Grace going into the arms of the Gods that took her life. Parents were supposed to wait for their children in the afterlife, not the other way around. Her cry was one of anger as she felt Kara’s arms around her. She needed to escape. She had to get away from them all.
She needed to get away from them all.
All the people saying how sorry they were for her loss, as if they knew. As if they really knew how she was feeling. There were no words to express the pain she was in, just as there were no words to make it go away. Yet mindless people expressed their sympathies for lack of anything better to say. Moving around in small groups and watching her. Commenting on how little sleep she must be getting, and how much weight she’s lost since losing her daughter. What did any of them know? It wasn’t like spilling your drink on someone at a party. You couldn’t just apologise and laugh it off. There was nothing to apologise for. Still they said it every time.
Without waiting and without stopping for any one, she walked away from them.
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Chapter Two
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